


Afterglow

by starduster



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2908046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduster/pseuds/starduster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inigo always seems to need extra attention after battles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterglow

Inigo is a wonder on the battlefield, Gerome thinks.

For someone as floozy and ditzy as Inigo he’s marvelously fluid with a blade, long limbs dancing a deadly tango with his foes as he twists and twirls and slashes and maims.  Each measure of a silent song is another life lost to Inigo’s sword, each phrase a tiny battle won. 

More than once Gerome has found himself entranced watching Inigo dance on the battlefield.

But despite his natural ease in battle he’s not quite so nimble off the field.  The time after a battle is always hard for him, an awkward stutter in the music that sends him stumbling out of his dance, lost as the music recovers and marches on without him.  He walks through camp in a daze as his fellows go about mending their wounds and sharpening blades and fletching arrows and polishing scuffs out of their mail. 

Only a few months prior these moments would have found Inigo in a nearby tavern, filled with ale and slinging compliments at barmaids only to come trudging back to camp with a muddled mind and a slapped cheek.  Or maybe he’d bring Gerome with him and come home leaning on him and crying because _why do **you** get all the girls!_   But since their relationship had taken an unexpected yet wholly appreciated and cherished turn Inigo most often seeks out Gerome in the aftermath of a battle, finding comfort in the shared warmth of a close body.

 

Chatter wafts through the camp as the Shepherds dig in for the day, fresh out of a successful battle and high on adrenaline.  Inigo had been as marvelous in battle as always, tearing through hordes of Grimleal and ending lives with a grin and a flourish.  But now he wanders among the tents aimlessly, kicking stray pebbles and squinting in the harsh noon sunlight. 

He’d mentioned once to Gerome how he didn’t like fighting, only seeing it necessary to fight as much as it would take to stop the future from being the nightmare of their youth.  He didn’t like killing other humans and forced himself to grin and bear the pain.  Once the battle was done he always, _always_ ruminated on it, on the lives he’d taken and families he’d destroyed.  He felt like he carried the sins of the world, he’d said. 

When Gerome finally spots Inigo meandering about the tent city in a daze it’s immediately obvious that Inigo’s in need of comfort.  Leading Minerva by her rein Gerome makes his way towards the dancer, and a loud snort from the wyvern attracts Inigo’s attention. 

Smiling weakly, Inigo deviates his path towards the rider and wordlessly tucks himself against Gerome’s chest, feeling the familiar arms come up to wrap around him snugly.  Ordinarily Gerome protests such public displays of their relationship but on days like this he lets it slide; Inigo needs this more than Gerome needs his pride.  And if anyone’s got anything to say about how the two of them always slip off to one of their tents after a battle they’ve rightfully kept it to themselves. 

As Inigo’s arms snake around his waist Gerome becomes acutely aware of two pairs of eyes on them.  Off a ways Olivia and Henry stand, watching their son with obvious concern.  Olivia meets his eyes and cocks her head questioningly.

_Is he alright?_

Gerome nods resolutely, one hand rubbing a soothing pattern into Inigo’s back.

_He’ll be okay._

Apparently satiated, Olivia nods and grabs Henry by the arm, dragging him off as he flips a thumbs-up to Gerome and Inigo.  Gerome scowls.  _Well then._

When Inigo draws away from him a hand comes up to wipe away tears that have blossomed from his eyes.  “Sorry,” he mumbles, frowning as he dabs at his cheek with his sleeve.  “ ’m always crying like this…” 

Gerome shakes his head, leaning down to press a kiss to Inigo’s forehead.  Inigo blinks, a little startled, but a smile spreads across his face anyway, and he moves to Gerome’s side and links his arm through Gerome’s as they start making their way towards Inigo’s tent. 

As they cross the camp Minerva spots Cherche and tugs insistently at the rein.  Gerome lets her go, watching her stomp off across the grass towards her old master and younger self.  It’s better, he thinks, to not have his wyvern curled suspiciously around someone else’s tent.

They duck inside the heavy canvas tent and once again Inigo wraps himself up in Gerome, pulling the other man against him and kissing him passionately.  Gerome returns it chastely, not wanting to go any further for now.  It’s bad enough that Olivia and Henry have evidently figured them out; he’d rather not have anyone come crashing into the tent while they’re in the act.   “Not now,” Gerome growls against Inigo’s lips, reaching up to tangle his fingers in pale hair and tug gently.  “Not while everyone else is awake.”

Inigo pouts.  “You’re no fun,” he grumbles as he plops down on his bedroll, tugging off his boots and shrugging out of his light armor.  “At least take some of your clothes off, though, give me _something_ to look at.” 

With a sigh Gerome turns and ties closed the laces of the tent flaps.  He can feel Inigo’s eyes on him as he unties his mask and lets it drop onto the pile of Inigo’s shirts that he’s already shed.  Next comes his chestplate and vambraces, his shirt and gloves, his greaves and boots.  Inigo’s sitting cross-legged, watching him eagerly with an oddly affectionate light in his eyes.  When Gerome’s finally out of a suitable amount of clothing Inigo pats the bedding beside him invitingly, and Gerome sits down with a groan.  It feels wonderful on his aching muscles to finally be sitting on something comfortable. 

Inigo snuggles up beside him and rests his head comfortably on Gerome’s shoulder, breathing in his scent and sighing softly.  Gerome in turn wraps his arm tightly about Inigo’s waist, turning his head slightly to press an easy kiss to soft locks.  Inigo’s warmth melts into him and eases his strained muscles, and many long moments pass in silence as they bask in each other’s presence. 

“Hey, Gerome?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” Inigo murmurs, sitting up and shifting to straddle Gerome’s lap and looping his arms around the rider’s neck.  He places a little kiss on Gerome’s nose, smiling broadly.  Another kiss to his cheek, his forehead, and finally his lips.

Gerome huffs out a laugh, arms tightening around Inigo’s waist.  “Glad you’re feeling better, then.”  He brushes Inigo’s bangs out of his eyes and kisses him gently, fingers trailing absently over the smooth skin of his back.  “All it takes to clear your after-battle blues is half-naked cuddling, good to know.”

Inigo’s pouting again.  “Well, if you’re not going to fuck me I have to take what I can get, right?”

With a roll of his eyes, Gerome slides his hands a little lower, letting his fingers slip beneath the band of Inigo’s trousers.  “If you’re going to be like that, then I guess I _have_ to indulge you.”

Inigo grins, pushing Gerome back onto the bedroll victoriously.

 

They make love slowly and quietly, all whispered affections and muffled groans and gasps.  Lying together in the afterglow, chest to chest, heart to heart, it feels less like they’re tired soldiers and more like the teenagers they’re supposed to be.  Gerome’s fingers card through silver locks and Inigo’s fingers trace pale scars and everything feels _right_. 

It’s too hot to lie pressed together naked under a heavy blanket in post-orgasmic bliss but neither of them care. Inigo seeks out Gerome’s free hand and laces their fingers together. 

“I love yoooooou,” Inigo coos against Gerome's feverish skin, craning his neck up to secure a final smooch from his partner.  Gerome returns it lazily, feeling the impending haze of sleep start to creep up on him.

“And I you,” he murmurs.  “But if my mother walks in on us you’re going to be the one to explain this.”

And for once Inigo doesn’t protest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is super indulgent bullshit because it's one in the morning and why the fuck not
> 
> 1.26.2015 - Thank you guys so much for 60 kudos!!!!


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